Gumnut's Farscape Ficlet Collection
by Gumnut
Summary: A collection of ficlets not long enough to warrant their own story space. Some may contain spoilers for any season. Some of Gumnut's earliest fics.
1. Waiter!

Waiter!  
by Gumnut  
26 Jun 2002

He nudged it with his fork.

He could have sworn it had moved. He chanced a look at the others around the table. They all seemed to be behaving normally. Rygel had his face almost buried in his bowl. Chiana was nimbly spooning broth into her mouth between conversation with D'Argo and Aeryn. Zhaan looked like she was saying grace, but that was nothing unusual.

He nudged it again. Still no movement. It was half buried in a creamy sauce-broth. Chiana had been extolling the broth's virtues for the last several arns. Then again that didn't mean much since she was the cook.

'This'll fix it', he thought. He made to stick his fork into it, only to have the fork slip and fling the unidentified ingredient directly, splat, into D'Argo's left eye.

"Crichton, what the frell are you doing?"

"Sorry, Big D, er…accident." He moved to wipe the offending morsel, but the glare exuding from D'Argo's other eye stalled him. "Would you like to borrow my napkin?"

The cloth was snatched from his hand as D'Argo reached to wipe his eye. At that moment, the 'ingredient' sprouted legs and crawled up D'Argo's forehead. It made a noise somewhere between a buzz and an offended squeak, before launching itself into the air and flying out of the room.

"What the hell was that!"

"It looked like a Leviathan Beetle-Fly. What was it doing in your soup?" Aeryn's look of exasperation had its usual effect of making him feel totally stupid.

"How the hell should I know? I've never seen one in my life."

There was a giggle from Chiana. "You were going to eat it, weren't you. Hah, you're fahrbot, Crichton."

He spent the rest of the meal hunkered over his bowl vainly trying to decide whether it had been edible before the fly or not. Probably not, but then again not much out here was. He obviously didn't know which was which anyhow.

The soup ended up in the trash.

xxxxx  
FIN


	2. Ends

Ends  
by Gumnut  
5 Jul 2002

_Time is often the rescuer. You know that, no matter what happens, everything has an end, a point in time that will bring a stop. Whether it stops positively or negatively is left up to other forces of nature, but it will stop…eventually._

"Aeryn. Aeryn, NO!"

She was woken abruptly from a deep sleep to hear Crichton's yell and the thud of his body falling out of bed. She was out of bed and halfway to the door before she remembered. This Crichton was not her John, this was not her place. Not her place. But his silence beckoned. John had woken the same way, the same name on his lips, many times. The dream was always the same. Him in Farscape, her falling, falling, down through the ice, him waking himself up screaming her name.

Her John had had her to comfort him, clasping her to him desperately trying to prove to himself that, yes, she was alive and well. This Crichton…it wasn't her place. She couldn't.

She stumbled back to bed.

xxxxx

The hard floor came up and hit him. He felt it in every joint, every point of contact with the cold surface. He lay there, willing the dream images away, aware, as always, that they weren't quite all nightmare. They were based in reality.

The slight breeze of Moya's atmospheric scrubbers whispered across his exposed skin, cooling, prompting goose pimples as his body moved to conserve heat. He shivered.

Aeryn.

Oh, Aeryn. His pain. Her pain. Their pain.

He had dreamt of her falling to her death many times before, the nightmare was an old nemesis. But this time it echoed with the desperation of losing her a second time. Not to her death, but to his.

She had died and come back. He had survived, barely.

He had died, and not. She had not survived.

He knew she was shattered. It was in her eyes when she looked at him. In her stance, in the trembling hands she denied were trembling. She was falling, falling away from him. And in his own way, he had killed her again.

A sudden need to see her, to reassure himself that she lived, urged him off the floor. Cold muscles complained, joints ached, but he stumbled to his feet, threw on a shirt over his underwear, and stumbled out into the darkened corridor.

xxxxx

She knew the moment he reached her door. She had expected him to appear, part of her had hoped, the other, wilted, burnt part had dreaded.

She could see him in her mind's eye, quietly standing in the shadows by the door, his face reflecting his indecision to enter. She knew him well. It pained her heart.

Her own indecision held her still, feigning sleep. She felt his gaze on her and a part of her ached to comfort him. A rustle of fabric, a painfully exhaled breath, the only sounds in the room.

She felt tears building behind her eyes. Her body ached for his touch, but her mind shied away, the thought forever associating his touch with the pain that followed.

She, too, had nightmares that woke her in the night. Radiation induced nightmares that woke her to her own tears. He was not there to comfort her. Never would be again. He couldn't be, she couldn't go through it all again. If he was, it would, and she couldn't.

Still he stood there. Saying nothing, just there, looking at her.

"John." She regretted it the moment she said it. She turned to look at him.

For a moment she thought he would run, he edged deeper into the shadows. She heard him swallow, could almost feel his trepidation in the air.

"Aeryn…I-" He didn't know what to say.

"Bad dream?"

"Yes." Pain in his voice. Of course she knew. "I'm sorry."

She didn't answer, turning away again. Knots formed in his shoulders. His bare feet were cold, he should go, he turned to leave.

"How do you do it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated. "Do what?"

"Live with the pain." He held his breath, tears sprouted in his eyes as she breathed the words. "Live…love…knowing it will always end?"

He let out his breath in a long sigh that was almost a sob. "I almost didn't. After I…after I killed you…" his voice hitched, "I wanted to die. D'Argo…D'Argo and the others wouldn't let me." He stopped talking as his throat tightened.

"I stood on a ledge and looked down." She whispered. He stopped breathing again.

He had to ask, fearing the answer. "What kept you here?"

She didn't answer. He wondered if anything had.

He broke the silence attempting to answer her original question. "There is always an end. For good or bad. I live for the moment, Aeryn, for there may never be another." He heard her breath catch in a sob. His instincts screamed at him to go to her. He couldn't, it hurt, it was no longer his place. "I know how you feel, Aeryn." His voice was so quiet he wondered if she had heard him.

She had, an equally faint "I know." whispered across the room.

He swallowed. "I love you, Aeryn, always." Not knowing what else to do and fearing his own emotional collapse, he turned and left.

He did not hear her tearful answer in the dark.

"There is no always."

xxxxx  
FIN.


	3. Beginnings: sequel to Ends

Beginnings: a sequel to Ends  
By Gumnut  
21 Nov 2002

_If there is an end, there must have been a beginning. But does the beginning come before the end, or the end before the beginning?_

He was twitching in his sleep.

She watched as one eye squinted, followed by the other, creasing his forehead into a frown. Every now and again an arm or leg would flinch as if from a blow or an aborted action. He was very rarely still.

She was familiar with this state. Her John had often come out of it screaming. This John, a John she desperately wanted to be her John, was no different. Exactly, no difference.

He shuddered suddenly, moaning quietly. Without thought, she reached over and gently touched his brow, running her fingers softly across his temples and down his jawline. He seemed to lean into her touch, slipping into a quieter slumber, reassured by her presence.

She didn't know why she was here, she just was. She came at night, just to see him. That first night after his return to Moya, she had watched him from the doorway as he tossed and turned. He had called her name that night, desperate in his sleep. He had screamed out Scorpius' a microt later.

She had regrets, many regrets. Things she could have done differently haunted her. Her past uncertainty plagued her. Her love taunted her.

She had him so close, yet he was so far. Closed off from her. He had been through so much and survived, yet she had managed to break him in the end. She who loved him had snapped that last twig. And now he fled.

She had been so elated and yet so terrified when he returned to Moya. His look of joy at seeing her had wrenched her heart. For a moment, just looking at him, she could have believed everything was going to be all right. But as he said those words, she knew she was about to wound him deeply, and it broke her heart.

The look on his face as he flickered from his first sight of Scorpius back to her – a look of terror, fearful questioning, and betrayal – hurt her no less than when she twisted the knife and tore his promise from him, the tears shining in his eyes.

Yes, she had broken him, and knew not how to fix it.

So she came to him at night, sitting beside him while he slept, watching the play of emotion as his dreams and nightmares visited him. This was the only time she could be really near him. He had been avoiding her when he could.

He shuddered again, mumbling her name, whimpering in his sleep. A soft touch to his brow quieted him again.

She shivered. The air was cool and the floor cold on her bare feet. She knew she should leave, but the thought of another sleepless night alone in her cell with only her thoughts for company…..no, she could stay a little longer…..

xxxxx

"Aeryn! No, NO!"

She startled awake. Awake? She must have fallen asleep. John was almost shouting, tossing his head, calling her name in his sleep. She knelt at the side of the bed, quietly shushing him, barely daring to touch him, terrified she would wake him.

She didn't. He responded to her touch, quieted once again, a gentle sigh escaping his lips.

She got up to leave, mentally berating herself for falling asleep, grateful he hadn't woken to find her there, worried at his reaction if he did. She quietly headed for the door.

"Aeryn." She froze. He was awake. She turned to find two crystal blue eyes staring at her above the coverlet.

He said two words. "Thank you."

She didn't have an answer, so she just nodded, her throat tight. His eyes closed and his head tilted back into sleep.

She turned and left quietly, walking down the corridor, ignoring the tear tracks on her face. She needed some sleep. Tomorrow, tomorrow was another day.

xxxxx  
FIN


	4. Tshirt, or not Tshirt

T-Shirt, or not T-shirt  
By Gumnut  
21 Nov 2002

RRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP!

"Look at that, look what you've done."

"I haven't done anything."

"I don't think so, I felt you do it."

"Felt me do what?"

"Rip my T-shirt."

"I did not!"

"Did, too! I felt you grab it and rip it!"

Why would I want to rip your shirt?"

"You tell me. Perhaps you want to rip off all my clothes."

"You're fahrbot, Crichton."

"C'mere, you know you want it. C'mere, gimme a kiss."

"Get away from me, Crichton. You ripped your frelling shirt on that conduit. Now get back to work, we need to finish this."

"You know you want it, so come and get it."

(sexy bum dance)

"Frell you, do it yourself."

"Awww, come back, Sparky, what's your problem?"

Pause. "Ahh, works every time."

"Aeryn, you can come out, he's gone."

"About time, I thought he'd never leave."

"Hmmm…now where were we?"

RRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP!

xxxxx  
FIN


	5. First Promise

The First Promise  
(Episode addition to Liars, Guns and Money (3): Plan B.)  
By Gumnut  
Oct – 22 Nov 2002

"D'Argo, kill me. D'Argo, please kill me."

D'Argo chilled, frozen at the terror in his friend's eyes.

"John-"

"D'Argo. He's in my head, he-" John broke from his grasp throwing himself across the room. Grabbing his pulse pistol, he thrust it to his head.

D'Argo saw the movement in slow motion, he struggled to grab Crichton, hold him back, stop him from-

The gun went to his head, his arm spasmed, and…..nothing happened.

D'Argo reached him and dashed the weapon from his hand. He turned, grabbing Crichton and shoved him up against the wall.

"What…do you think you are doing!"

The man before him looked at him, his face twisted in anguish, the hope completely gone from his eyes. "D'Argo, I can't…." His face crumpled and he broke down.

D'Argo held him. The human shuddered violently in his grasp, huge sobs of anguish muffled against his chest.

xxxxx

She was still a fair way down the corridor when the yelling started again. She had started running by the time she came around the last bend and collided with Jothee. They both staggered.

Jothee looked almost frantic. He pointed in the direction of Crichton's quarters.

"He's gone completely fahrbot! He-" She didn't wait for him to finish, she flung herself the rest of the way.

The room was a shambles. Clothing, pieces of furniture, and John's chess set lay scattered all over the floor. Even Winona lay abandoned beside the bed.

D'Argo stood in the centre of the chaos, holding on to a wildly struggling Crichton. The despair on D'Argo's face cut her. The insanity on John's, cleaved her in half.

"What happened?"

At the sound of her voice, Crichton stopped struggling and went almost limp in D'Argo's arms. "Aeryn?"

She looked at D'Argo as she approached them. His eyes darted in the direction of Winona, then back to John. Aeryn held her breath. He wouldn't have, would he? But she knew the truth in her heart. John wouldn't have but for that THING in his head.

John's eyes were red-rimmed, his gaze almost vacant. He looked at her almost pleading. She cupped his head in her hands. "John?"

"Aeryn….I." He gasped, took a breath. "D'Argo, you can let me go now."

"John-"

"Let me go!"

The Luxan let go and John almost fell, Aeryn catching him by the shoulders. "John?"

"Aeryn….he's….aah, in my head….and I can't…." He started swiping at himself again. Aeryn grabbed his arm, holding it down, he began to struggle again.

"John!" He stopped, shuddering. His eyes clenched shut and he swallowed. When they opened again, they bored into her, an intense blue.

"Aeryn, do….do you remember the bugs, and the…the heat delirium, when you made me p..promise?" She nodded, her eyes widening. "I want you to promise me." She opened her mouth to object. "Promise me, Aeryn. He's taking over. I don't know how long….I don't want to hurt any…please, Aeryn, please k..kill me."

"John, I-"

"Aeeryn, please." His grip on her shoulder became almost painful, tears of desperation trailed down his cheeks as he clung to her.

Her pain-filled hesitation sent a flicker of betrayal across his face. He flung himself away from both of them and crashed on to the bed.

"Get out of here, both of you." He buried his head in the pillow.

Aeryn and D'Argo looked at each other, neither exactly sure what to do. D'Argo quietly knelt down and picked up Winona, passing her to Aeryn.

"I said, GET OUT!"

They left him sprawled face down on the bed.

xxxxx

Out in the corridor, Aeryn realised she was crying. She wiped an awkward arm across her eyes. D'Argo said nothing, his eyes saying everything.

"What do you want to do?" He finally asked.

She took a breath and composed herself. "Umm…Pilot and Crais are looking for a medical facility for Moya. Hopefully we will be able to find help for John, as well." Her eyes betrayed her more optimistic tone.

"And, if we can't?" He said, gently.

She looked up at him, her voice trembling but firm. "Then I will keep my promise." She turned abruptly and walked off. D'Argo followed her with his eyes until she turned a corner, both his hearts in pain.

Turning back to Crichton's quarters he saw that John appeared to have fallen into an exhausted sleep, his breathing soft against the hum of Moya. D'Argo decided to stay for awhile and keep watch.

If Aeryn failed to keep her promise, he would keep his.

xxxxx  
FIN.


	6. Stuck

Stuck   
by Gumnut   
18th June 2002 

"Eeeewwww, that is really disgusting!"

"What?"

"This...this slimy stuff dripping off my boot."

"Oh."

"Oh? Oh, what? Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Ah...possibly."

"So what is it?"

"You don't want to know."

"I don't?"

"Not really...you know where we are don't you?"

"Yes, but...eeewwwwwww, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ahhh, no."

"Oh, for frell's sake, that just tops everything for today. Not only am I stuck in here, but I'm stuck in here with a galactic booger stuck to my boot. Who's idea was it to come down here anyway?"

"Yours."

"It was not!"

"Was, too"

"It was your idea to fix the conduits."

"But, I said we could do it from the corridor, you were the one who said it would be easier from here."

"Well, it was, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but you didn't even think of asking Pilot, what part of Moya we were entering did you?"

"Neither did you."

"Crichton, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here, I ain't goin' anywhere fast at the moment."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, any chance of us getting out of here soon?"

"Pilot's working on it."

"Well, tell him that we would be very grateful if he could hurry up. It's getting moist down here."

"He's doing his best. Remember it was your idea to go down there in the first place."

"Don't you start."

xxxxx

"Frelling dren!"

"Got a problem?"

"It is in my hair."

"How did it get in your hair?"

"It's dripping from the ceiling now."

"Here let me have a look...ow, watch where you stick that, it's hard."

"Sorry."

"Just lean back over here. That's right. Oh."

"What?"

"It's soft."

"So?"

"I never though it would be so soft. It always looked coarse to me."

"So, it is soft, is there a problem?"

"No, no problem."

"Isn't yours soft?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose, did you want to feel it?"

"No, just clean up the mess."

"This stuff is like glue, hand me that rag."

"Can you get it out?"

"Hold still."

"Aaargh! Don't pull!"

"Sorry"  
"Is it out?"

"Getting there. I don't think I'm going to get it all."

"This is all your fault."

"Don't start that again...It is not."

"Is."

"Is not."

"Is."

"Is not."

"Is...aargh, I said don't pull!"

"Is not."

xxxxx

"Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-eight bottles of beer. If one of those bottles should happen to fall, then there'd be-"

"What the frell is beer?"

"Aaah...beer...the delight of a Sunday afternoon, with your feet up and the Superbowl on the television."

"You are making your usual lack of sense, Crichton."

"It's a drink."

"What's it doing on a wall?"

"What?"

"Bottles of beer on the wall?"

"...Actually I don't know. I never really thought about it. Perhaps they were using them for target practice."

"Why would you want to shoot a bottle of drink?"

"I don't know...aw, it dripped in my eye. Move over, it's dripping over here now. Where's that rag?"

"There is nowhere to move to, it is everywhere."

"I'll just shift...ow, I told you to watch that thing, it hurts."

"Keep out of its way."

"What's with the attitude?"

"We shouldn't have come in here."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Well, it wasn't and now Moya is congested and I am stuck here listening to you."

"It wasn't my fault, you're the one who brought lunch in here."

"I was hungry...you spilt it."

"It was not my fault."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't."

"Was."

"Wasn't."

"Was."

"Wasn't"

"Was."

"Wasn't...I'm putting my hands over my ears, I'm not listening...ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-seven bottles of beer..."

xxxxx

"Fifty-four bottles of beer on the wall, fifty-four bottles of beer. If one of those bottles-"

"Will you shut up!"

"Don't you like my singing?"

"Is that what you call it?"

"Just trying to pass the time."

"Pass it with your mouth shut."

"Mmmphy-mmph..mm..m..mm..mm-mmm, mmphy-mmph..mm..m..mmm..."

"What?"

"Mph..m..mm..mmmph..mm..mm..mph..."

"What are you saying?"

"Just keeping my mouth shut."

"Pilot! When, the frell, are you getting us out of here? Pilot!"

"Fifty-three bottles of beer on the wall, fifty-three bottles of beer..."

xxxxx

"It's about time."

"We did our best, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"What the frell happened to him?"

"He...er...had an accident."

"How did he get covered in all that slime? It's disgusting."

"He fell."

"How did he fall?"

"D'Argo."

"I had to tongue him."

"Why?...no, don't tell me. You can carry him."

"It was his fault."

"D'Argo."

"It was."

xxxxx  
FIN


	7. Thoughts

Thoughts  
by Gumnut  
29 Jun 2002

I used to look at the stars with wonder, now I only look at them and wonder why. Why this, why that, why everything. And, of course, why me?

What demented twist of fate saw me to be flung to this ass end of the universe anyway? I was happy, top of my field, a top-notch fly-boy. All those years of study, hard work, for what? I can see the headline now, 'Loser astronaut lost in space'. And three pages into the classifieds, a little two liner, 'Help wanted. Astronaut seeks way home. Call 555-WHO-KNOWS-WHERE.'

It just isn't fair.

Oh, that's original, John, can't you think of a more creative way to whine?

Shut up, Harvey, today is not a good day to mess with me. Leave me to my misery.

John, your self pity is becoming a real pain in the cooling rods.

Piss off.

I'm only trying to help.

Help? Help! You help me? This is all your frelling fault. Yours and that demented original of yours. Things were hard enough to begin with, but no, you had to make it harder. You and your frelling wormholes. Hounding me wherever I go. You're in my head, for God's sake. GO AWAY!

Silence

Blessed silence. But silence is not longer silent in my mind. It whispers in the dark, haunts behind my eyes, lingers on my lips, one word, one name…Aeryn.

She was hope. Now I have none left.

She is gone. And that's all folks.

xxxxx

The corridors of the dying leviathan are always quiet. No noise and clutter of a crew, no running feet, no merriment, no tears, nothing. With one exception.

The terrace was not as healthy as it had once been, the arching viewport crusted with age in places, but for the most part the view was still awesome. Leviathan sacred space, with its vistas of nebulae and stardust swirling slowly past.

The lone figure lying on the floor seemed ignorant of the beauty surrounding him. His face betrayed an internal struggle and his hand twitched restlessly towards the pulse pistol on his thigh.

She came to him in his dreams.

xxxxx

John, what are you doing?

I'm pining, Aeryn. Like a dog.

A pointless effort.

Same thing could have been said about everything I've done since I arrived in this dead end of the universe, so what's new?

Shouldn't you be doing something?

What? You left, D'Argo left, Chiana left, hell, even Sparky left. And Moya…well, I can't do anything for Moya now.

You're pathetic, John.

Yep, you got that right.

xxxxx

He didn't have any alcohol, but he found after awhile that he didn't really need it. When your mind has been frelled with as many times as his had, a self-induced stupor isn't that hard to create. And he did it often. As often as it took to forget.

So he lay on his back staring out at the stars through the fogged lenses of the terrace, having conversations with himself, as that was his only company.

xxxxx

So, Harv, what do you think of our predicament?

Typical, John.

I have to agree with you on that one. How would you rate being stuck alone on a dying leviathan in the middle of nowhere up against the events of the last cycle or so?

We've been in worse, John, I have to say. How about a five?

Yes, definitely a five. Doesn't live up to floating in space above a flaming moon, spacing without a suit, or shaking your butt-ugly counterpart's hand.

I could start taking that personally, John.

Go for it, Harv.

xxxxx

Pilot sometimes managed to engage him in conversation. He did rouse himself to help out and make repairs as often as needed, but it was automaton-like.

Pilot didn't know what had tormented their lone passenger to this point. He refused to talk about it, sketching out his origins in the most basic concepts he could. Tired though she was, Pilot often wished she could help him. He was lost within himself and it seemed nothing she did could draw him out.

Perhaps it is the way his species deals with pain.

xxxxx

It is not much to ask for really is it? A home, a family and safety. I've never really wanted much. Of course, I worked hard to get to the point of being one of those few humans who made it into space. But academics aside, the one thing I have really wanted was a family. Funny, you don't realize these sort of things until they are out of your grasp, when you have no hope of actually attaining that goal. As Harv said, 'Typical'. Certainly for John Robert Crichton, nothing is ever easy.

Ironically, I could say that I do have a family, genetically at least. Pot luck if I'll ever meet any of them. Talk about doing a Jim Kirk, lovem' and leavem', well…at least he got the love bit.

John, now you are just being ridiculous.

In what way, Sunshine?

I did love you, you know.

You loved him, Aeryn.

I loved John Crichton.

You still left. Left me like this. Not telling me about the child.

I had to go, John, you know that.

Knowing doesn't make it any easier.

xxxxx

She had seen the Human withdraw further and further into himself, and despaired. He lay on the terrace, as he often did, mumbling incoherently to himself. Sometimes he would hum a tune, sometimes he was silent. Always he was in pain. Though her senses were blurred with age, she could feel it radiating from him in waves.

Some she could determined was homesickness. She had felt that herself not long after separating from her mother over three hundred cycles ago. The rest she did not know, only knowing that it was vast deep and despairing.

An odd though occurred. Perhaps he lacked companionship. She always had Pilot, she thanked the Builders many a time for her bonding. Who did he have? Had he ever had a companion like Pilot? A being who knew his soul? She didn't know.

Pilot couldn't get a response, there was no one else on board, but perhaps she could help. Just a little.

xxxxx

I suppose it if I was back on Earth I would be confined to a looney bin, what's the bet? That could be a positive for being here, I suppose. But then again, I'm stuck here with my ugliest nemesis and the love of my life who couldn't love me enough to stay.

Now, I take serious offense at that, John, I'm not ugly.

Well, you ain't pretty.

Hmph.

John, stop torturing yourself this way, it's useless.

No, Aeryn, it's the truth, and as they say, the truth hurts.

Harvey, is he always like this?

A good percentage of the time, though more so lately since you left him.

So, it's my fault? At least I didn't mind frell him like you did.

I only did what I was created to do.

Yes, but look at him, you left him a mess. He's almost a drooling vegetable.

He didn't get that way until you frelled with his heart.

How poetic, Harvey, got anymore lines up your sleeve?

Guys, guys, guys! Just whose mind is this anyway? Both of you shut up. What is that noise?

xxxxx

The DRD whirred quietly onto the terrace, hesitated, then abruptly moved over to the prone figure on the floor. he was mumbling and humming to himself again. Both Elack and Pilot listened intently, not much translated well, a few names, but between the muttering a tune repeated over and over. It was not familiar to either Pilot or Elack but they recorded it anyway. Perhaps the tune from an unexpected source would be enough to snap him out of his fugue.

xxxxx

Music. It's music. Music from home. Tchaikovsky. 1812 overture. Where's it coming from?

It's not me.

That's not a surprise, Harv, shut up and let me listen.

It's time, John.

For what, Aeryn?

Time for you to return to the world. You have new friends to consider. Can't you here them calling?

I…can't…I want to go home.

Where is home but where you are?

Home is where…where my heart was…you left, remember?

I'm still out there, John. Remember fate.

Fate and frelling wormholes.

Remember fate.

xxxxx

The DRD backed up with a squawk when Crichton suddenly sat up.

"Hey, little guy, where'd you learn that?"

Ask a stupid question…

Go frell yourself, Harv.

"Pilot, is everything okay?"

"There are no problems, Commander, however Elack and I have been worried about you."

"Nothing you can do, Pilot, though, thanks for your concern."

Silence from the comms.

"Then again, it's been awhile since I've heard some familiar music. I didn't know DRD's could play audio like that."

"They can't. Elack made this one especially for you."

John's breath caught in his throat. New friends indeed…

"Give Elack my love. I really appreciate the gesture and I realize how much effort this must have cost her in her condition."

"I will, Commander. Will you be staying with us for a while?"

John had the distinct impression that Pilot wasn't referring to him leaving in his module.

"No promises, Pilot, but for now…here is home."

xxxxx  
FIN.


	8. Splitting Hairs

Splitting Hairs  
By Gumnut  
22 Nov 2002

"My God, what have you done to your hair?"

"Do you like it?"

"Umm."

"Chiana, did it for me."

"It's, umm, different."

"So do you like it?"

"Umm, very nice."

"I thought so, too. Took long enough, I was in curling rods for arns."

"So that's where you've been."

"Yes. Oh, and Chiana has this new hair rinse that left my hair so soft. Here smell it."

Sniff

"Hmm, nice. Ah, were the ribbons really necessary?"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, don't you think they are a little too much?"

"You hate it, don't you?"

"Well, I er…"

"Well, frell you, Crichton, I didn't do it for you anyway. Chiana likes it."

"Ohhkay. Anything you say, Big D. Nice hair."

xxxxx  
FIN.


	9. Truth

Truth  
By Gumnut  
19 Nov 2002

_Truth can be altered by perspective. What one sees may not be what another sees, warped by experience and bias, interest and gain. The truth is out there, but, like time, truth is relative._

The air was full of dust. Waving his hand in front of his face, he coughed as he walked into the galley. He must ask Pilot about that, perhaps the air-recyclers were on the fritz again.

The room was dark, but he was just able to make out a shape sitting at the table.

"Noranti?"

"John." Aeryn.

He almost turned and fled. His fingers made to reach for his pocket, searching for the bottled relief, but he could feel her eyes on him. Those dark eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Aeryn, have you seen Noranti?"

She didn't answer him, she stood up and walked towards him. "John we need to talk."

He flinched, his own words used on himself. "Aeryn, I…"

"John, please, let me talk to you."

It itched at the back of his throat, and teared in his eyes. He turned from her. "Aeryn, I can't."

"John, I love you…beyond hope." His throat strangled the breath from his chest.

He could feel her behind him. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if reaching out to her, but his muscles clenched, as if in pain or fear. He couldn't, he shouldn't…but would he?

Her hand touched his shoulder. He flinched as if burned and spun to face her. "Aeryn, I can't keep doing this." In the dark he could still see his reflection in the tears in her eyes. Something inside him broke. "I can't." It came out in a breathless whisper.

"John, do you love me?"

The answer came without thought, tripping over his tongue. "Yes."

"Then why?"

"Because it hurts, Aeryn!" It ripped itself from him, a desperate tear-filled anger. "I keep loving you…you keep leaving. You don't trust me, I don't trust you,…I can't even trust myself anymore." His head fell into his hands. "I…oh…it hurts so much."

Arms encircled him, embracing him, drawing him to the floor. She murmured words of comfort in his ear and despite himself, he clung to her. Her arms were a cool warmth around him, his head resting on her shoulder, her hand on the back of his neck.

"John, I promise you now, that if it is what you want, I will not leave you. I will stay with you for as long as I can. If that is what you want."

His answer was a muffled sob.

She gently drew his head up to face hers. Her eyes met his in the depths of his misery. His despair emanated from him in waves. She coasted them and her lips touched his in a simple kiss. She lingered, then leaning back, asked, "What does that taste like?"

He turned away and didn't answer.

"What do you want, John?" He glanced back at her, red-rimmed eyes vacant. She shook him. "What do you want?"

He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "You know what I want, Aeryn. It is what I have wanted since I set foot on this ship."

"So why don't you take it?"

The voice had changed. The woman that held him was no longer Aeryn.

Noranti.

John flung himself away from her, hitting the table, knocking dishes to the floor, scrabbling to his feet.

"You…you…you, BITCH!" He was furious, his hand reaching for Winona.

She stood, hands outstretched, trying to calm him. "John. John, listen to me."

Her answer was a pulse pistol barrel shoved in her face.

"Why?" His knuckles were white tipped on the pistol grip.

"I think you need to answer that question yourself."

"Don't mess with my mind, old woman, answer the question."

"Seek the truth, John, within yourself."

"What truth?" He spat it out.

"You love her, don't you?" He glared at her. "And she loves you."

"It's not that simple!" Winona shook.

A finger came up and gently pushed the pulse pistol barrel away and down. Noranti walked past him and stood in the doorway. "Life is what you make it, John." She turned and left.

He stared hopelessly after her, Winona dangling by his side.

"It's not that simple."

xxxxx  
FIN


End file.
